


Beating of a Drum

by UngreatfulExpectations



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/F, Human Experimentation, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Morally Ambiguous Character, Non-Graphic Violence, Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Parent Death, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Suicide Attempt, The Red Room is it's own Warning, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, dark themes, gay realization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:55:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24153928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UngreatfulExpectations/pseuds/UngreatfulExpectations
Summary: Yelena had patched her up and let her sleep off the gunshot wounds, and then had lectured her about her form.And the lack of it, actually.
Relationships: Yelena Belova/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 6





	Beating of a Drum

**Author's Note:**

> Florence Pugh is an actual chaotic angel and I swear to God if Yelena dies in the new Black Widow movie I may actually be done watching the movies.
> 
> This is the inner monologue of an OC character named Lily, a mutant, and her love for Yelena Belova. It includes dark themes related to the cluster fuck that is the Red Room and William Stryker. Please let me know if I've missed any warnings or spelling/grammatical errors. I tried to tag everything but I wrote this last instead of sleeping and then had work today.
> 
> My eyes hurt.

There are only a few things in life Lily has learned that she would willingly chose death rather than live without or kill herself for. She’s learned to live without a lot of things, without a father, without a mother, in captivity, and in hiding.

Life hasn’t been easy.

And it hasn’t been easy for Yelena either.

The first time she’d laid her eyes on Yelena, there had been interest, sure.

It wasn’t everyday you met and learned the true identity of a previous Black Widow, one that defected (yet managed to keep enough allies around to be untouchable by the organization for the most part) and live to see the next day.

It helped when you awoke in her bed the next day, though it wasn’t really in the way she would have liked.

Yelena had patched her up and let her sleep off the gunshot wounds, and then had lectured her about her form.

And the lack of it, actually.

Lily had tried not to take it too much to heart, considering she took out five soldiers before she’d actually been shot the first time and then taken out an additional four.

Nine hadn’t matched to Yelena’s twenty, but in Lily’s book it was pretty good. Considering Yelena had spent the entirety of her childhood and teenage years becoming a weapon and Lily had spent four years being experimented on.

But back to the original point--

There weren’t a lot of things she would rather chose death for rather than live without or to die for. Despite all the damage, the pain, the raw-and-all-encompassing desire to survive despite the awful things done to her (or maybe it was the fact she knew she couldn’t kill herself because she’d already tried once) she wanted to live.

A part of her had theorized it was because of her being a mutant. Maybe it was because she was hard-wired to survive, electricity sparking out of her fingers and healing all the abuse, torture, and brutality done to her that made her want to survive. It had to be biological, because up until Yelena there hadn’t been much to live for.

The first thing she would rather die than live without was freedom. If she was ever forced into confinement like that little metal box that she’d been stuck in and still haunted her dreams she’d choose to cut her own wrists.

The thought of the men touching her through the grates, the scientists stabbing and prodding, torturing her in the name of their ‘experiments’ had been more than enough pain for any single person. It’s been seven years since Logan had gotten her out. And her greatest fear was still going back to that place. Even the thought of looking at the scorch marks that had taken over the complex sent her heart racing, skin tingling in agitation. PTSD they called it. Sometimes on the bad days, it felt like all she had left was how trauma made her feel.

Which was why she’d never let anyone do that to her again.

Lily would also never give up the location of the other children. She’d bite her own tongue off, bleed to death, let herself be drowned, burnt alive, tortured--anything other than let any of those kids get found. And yes, she’s aware that this might conflict a bit with the statement above, but it makes it no less true. The thought of giving up the safety of those kids was actually more horrifying than the previous topic. Mostly, because she’s not sure she’d actually be to withstand it again. There is a sick, horrible, guilty part of her that realizes that she may actually do it to save herself. She doesn’t know if she’d be able to withstand the torture for as long as she did before. It's why she promised herself she'd kill herself before did it.

There would be no point in living anyways if she did something so horrible like lead Stryker back to those kids. 

The last one is selfish.

She fucking knows it is.

But it doesn’t change it.

Lily tries over and over every moment she thinks about it to convince herself that after a lifetime of pain, years of torture and the possibly endless years of haunting following has given her the right to desire things. She just feels shame though.

The only time she forgets it is when she’s with her.

It doesn’t have to be sexual, either.

Sometimes they’re sharing dinner, Lily curled up in the chair in a ridiculous fashion while Yelena rolls her eyes and tells her how foolish she is. To sit up straight as she eats.  
Slouching is bad for the back, Yelena says. Half the time Lily doesn’t hear her.

She’s too busy looking into her eyes, the salvation she craves.

It’d taken too long for Lily to get the courage to actually take the first steps. Truthfully there had been so much fear about losing her that she’d nearly let her go. Lily had actually had the plane ticket booked, the bag packed, and was ready to leave.

Instead, she had crawled into her bed and cried like a child.

Lena had only held her, but she’d felt the tears Lena had cried but never heard them.

Lily wasn’t a fool. She knew that Lena had gone through terrible, horrible, vicious things. She’d been used, abused, and forced to do things so terrible and so often they the horror only became a task meant to be accomplished. She’d spilled so much blood the red color was nothing to her. She knew that Lena had been raped, been defiled, had her childhood stripped away from her.

It was the same way Lena understood tight spaces had pushed her into panic attacks. It was why Lena had changed the shower curtain from white to clear.

Lily understood the touch of a man brought no excitement to Lena, but that she’d been with far more men than women. She understood that Lena struggled with intimacy but never sex.

Just like Lena understood that the thought of being touched by a man the same way Lily wanted Lena made Lily sick.

It’d taken two years before she’d stopped flinching at the loud, booming voice of Alexei.

There had been a time when Lily had convinced herself she couldn’t have Lena. That she didn’t deserve any sort of comfort she could have from her.

Being with Lena is as easy as breathing.

She doesn’t know if she could ever survive being without her now.  


  
It was nearly five months into their dance when Lena had gotten sick of waiting and had kissed her.

The truth was, Lily had never imagined herself falling in love with a woman. Despite the fear associated with being with a man, she was still attracted to them. But she should have realized that her lingering gazes on women's behinds, chests, hands, eye-lashes, and mouths weren’t exactly heterosexual thoughts.

Neither were the dreams of laying between Lena’s legs tasting the most intimate parts of her.

The kiss had devolved quickly, though the adrenaline rush of nearly being killed had helped.

They were in a car, seven miles out from the explosion when Lena had slammed her foot on the break, yanked the car into park and leaned over the console to pull her into the kiss.

Her mouth had been soft, forceful and unyielding. Tongue rough and demanding.

Neither of them remember getting to a hotel, but they do.

Lily certainly remembers falling to her knees the second the door closes, struggling to get the utility belt around Lena’s waist off, and then pulling her pants (then, stupidly shoes because she was so lust-drunk) and finally, finally pulling a tan leg over her shoulder and dragging her tongue against soaked, throbbing flesh.

Fingers had dug into her hair and her own nails had dragged Lena’s ass forward for her cunt to be spread tight over Lily’s mouth. There was no real finesse, just desperation and desire.

She had also decided that night that if she got to choose her death it would be between Lena’s legs.

Her hand had slipped between her legs and then into her cunt, pushing and pulling faster and faster as her voice had gotten louder and louder. Mouth, chin, and neck soaked by the time she gets her mouth off of her, it’s only really to push her back into the bed of the hotel. Then she crawls to the end and puts her mouth on her cunt again, this time slower and less desperate as Lena shifts and clenches her way through her first orgasm.

Lily had lead her through two more before Lena pulls her off and kisses her.

It would be easy to say it was physical. But the truth was Lena had holed her way up into her soul, into her heart, and the thought of losing her made her panic. It made her heart throb and skin itch like she wanted to crawl out of it.

She’d chose death over losing Yelena Belova.

And when she sleeps tucked under Lena’s arm, legs entangled with hers she knows that this is the only place she’s ever felt safe. Her forehead pressed against the soft flesh of her breast, the smell of her skin lulling her to peaceful slumber. Lena’s heartbeat drumming away the night terrors, this embrace is what she craves even while she’s in it.

And she’d burn the world away to keep Lena there.

And she’s not sure if that scares her more than the thought of losing her.


End file.
